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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093942">Between Dusk and Dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfishofthelord/pseuds/angelfishofthelord'>angelfishofthelord</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angels, Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Angry Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Bobby Singer, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Bobby Singer's House, Canon Rewrite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Shit Raphael (Supernatural), Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Season/Series 06, Whump, also, angel grace headcanon, because, but like mostly off-screen, i love these bobby tags, im crying how is that already a tag, there is actual comfort this time okay i mean it, we are addressing THEE s6 issues right here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:01:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfishofthelord/pseuds/angelfishofthelord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It's Cas. Well, Bobby. Cas called Bobby,” Sam corrected himself. “He asked Bobby to evacuate the town, said there was a bomb or something.”</p><p>Dean tightened his grip, the rubber rim of the steering wheel digging into his palm. “A bomb threat? What’s he playing FBI for?”</p><p>Sam shot him a look. “It’s Cas, Dean. It’s not going to be a normal bomb, it must be something to do with demons. Or angels. Or both.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Bobby Singer, Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Black and Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my attempt at a s6 fix-it and it's also the earliest I've ever gone back in the SPN timeline to write a fic so...bear with me if there are some inconsistencies/plot details I overlooked. The story is set sometime between after Sam gets his soul back and 6x15.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The machetes jingled against the other knives in the bag as Dean tossed them into the back of the trunk. He ducked his head further under the hood, straining to reach the plastic bottle of dead man’s blood in the back. The half-full gallon jug sat nestled between the water bottles filled with holy water.</p><p>“My shirt got completely ruined,” came Sam’s muffled voice from above him. “I don’t think I can save it.”</p><p>Uncapping the jug Dean set it down on the edge of the trunk and held out a hand for his brother to pass him the unused syringes. “Dude.” His hand hovered there a second longer before he popped his head up. “Stop nursing your shirt and gimme those!”</p><p>Sam released the hem of his button-down with a sigh. “It’s just that this is the third one I’ve had to trash this week. I liked this one, it has these pockets on the side that I--”</p><p>“Can you go through a fashion crisis later? I wanna be back at Bobby’s by tonight.”</p><p>“Pockets are lifesavers, Dean, you just don’t understand that yet.” Sam pulled the two syringes from his back pocket and tossed them over.</p><p>“Pockets that small aren’t worth anything alright? It’s pants pockets that are the real heroes, trust me.”</p><p>“I’m just saying, if you have shirt pockets you can also--” Sam paused, pulling out his phone. “Ah, it’s Bobby.”</p><p>“Tell him not to wait up.” Dean finished emptying the syringes into the jug and returned it to the back corner. He shut the trunk and then patted the side a few times as if to congratulate the Impala for playing her part in the successful hunt. Catching sight of his reflection in the driver’s mirror he leaned in closer to wipe off the few specks of blood still splattered across his left cheek. There was also a thin glob of skin that definitely wasn't his hanging off his eyebrow. It caught onto his finger as he tried to pull it off, sending him flailing his arm in wild circles until he finally managed to hurl it loose and into the grass where he kicked it away.</p><p>Finally he opened the car door and slid in, stretching out into the comfort of the familiar seat. “Sam, are you coming?”</p><p>“Okay,” Sam said into the phone. “We’ll get there as soon as we can. Let us as soon as you find out anything else. Yeah,” he hurried around to the side and hopped into the passenger seat, gesturing for Dean to start driving. “we’re headed there now. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour or so.”</p><p>Dean slammed the driver’s door shut and shoved the keys into the ignition. He didn’t need to know anything else; it was all there in the hunch of his brother’s shoulders, the nervous bobbing of his knee, and the way his fingers were curled into the fabric of his shirt. Something bad had happened. Something beyond another werewolf attack or ghoul sighting.</p><p>“Miller, South Dakota,” Sam muttered to him before turning back to the phone. “Yeah, I’m still here. I know. Okay.”</p><p>“At least it’s on the way home,” Dean grumbled, pressing his foot against the gas pedal. Once Sam had hung up he asked, “So what’s the headline?”</p><p>“Cas. Well, Bobby. Cas called Bobby,” Sam corrected himself.</p><p>“Isn’t Cas off playing Family Feud in Heaven?”</p><p>“Guess not. He asked Bobby to evacuate the town, said there was a bomb or something.”</p><p>Dean tightened his grip, the rubber rim of the steering wheel digging into his palm. “A bomb threat? What’s he playing FBI for?”</p><p>Sam shot him a look. “It’s <em>Cas</em>, Dean. It’s not going to be a normal bomb, it must be something to do with demons. Or angels. Or both. He told Bobby he can’t move it or stop it, he can only delay it.”</p><p>“Okay, so what’s Bobby’s theory?”</p><p>“Well, Bobby said he got through to the mayor of the town. He told them that there’s a toxic waste leak and got them to start moving people out.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead creased in consternation. “That won’t last for long. In a few hours someone from the FDA is actually going to come down and then that’s going to be trouble. We have to find Cas and the bomb and get them both out of there before that.”</p><p>“Wait--find Cas? Didn’t he make the call?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s the other thing.” Sam reached towards the backseat to grab a change of clothes. “He refused to tell Bobby where he was. In fact he told Bobby to tell us not to come. He just wanted Bobby to get the people out.”</p><p>“Dumb-ass of the lord,” Dean sighed. “Like we’re gonna leave him alone with a literal ticking time bomb.”</p><p> </p><p> *  *  *</p><p> </p><p>As the Impala snaked up the winding road leading to the entrance of the town Dean noticed the orange cones starting to pepper the side of the road. It wasn’t long before the roadblock came into view, a black and yellow striped barrier preventing anyone from coming in. Another set of cones partitioned off the out-going lane for a long line of cars trying to leave.</p><p>Dean nodded to Sam who pulled out one of his badges as an officer approached the window</p><p>”Oh thank goodness you’re here,” the officer said, tilting her cap at them. “We’ve been doing our best to get everyone out but it ain’t easy asking people to leave their home on a short notice like that.”</p><p>”Of course.” Sam offered her one of his patented placating smiles. “We’re going to do everything we can to find out what’s wrong so everyone can return safely as soon as possible. How many people are still in the town?”</p><p>“About a third.” She rested her hands on her hips, squinting against the setting afternoon sun. “We’re doing our best, Agent, you just let me know if you need any kind of assistance. Most of our officers are busy helpin’ folks head out but there are a few volunteers if you need--”</p><p>“Oh, thank you, Officer--” he leaned in to see the name tag on her uniform “--Officer Kingsley, but it’s best if everyone moves out. We don’t want to risk exposing anyone else to the danger.”</p><p>After another round of effusive gratitude and an enthusiastic handshake the officer moved the blockage aside and Dean inched the Impala forward. Once the roadblock was behind them he sped up a little, trying not to draw attention to them as the only car heading into and not out of the town. Sam stared out the window, watching for any telltale signs of demonic activity. A few clusters of people could be seen here and there, loading bags into their cars or hurrying their children out of the house, but for the most part it was quiet. The stillness of desertion hovered over it like an invisible mist.</p><p>“Okay, how are we supposed to defuse this bomb if we don’t know where it is or where Cas is?” Dean peered to the left and right of the windshield, as if hoping a little red siren would helpfully go off in the designated danger zone.</p><p>“I don’t know if--hold on.” Sam held up a finger and put the phone to his ear. “Yes, we’re here. The post office? Okay, yeah--people are leaving. Okay, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>“Mail bomb?” Dean quipped, making a left turn onto the next road.</p><p>“Not quite. Bobby said Cas called again to say that he saw people still at the post office. He was worried that they weren’t leaving. Bobby checked the maps and there’s an abandoned fabric factory behind the post office area, he thinks that’s where Cas might be.” Sam frowned, his left knee still bobbing rhythmically. “Cas still doesn’t want us to be here.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, when has that ever stopped us?” He eased the Impala into the narrow lane behind the post office. “It’s probably just because--”</p><p>“You don’t think that maybe--”</p><p>“No,” Dean said firmly, this time turning to face his brother. “This isn’t Samhain, this isn’t another seal opening or anything. Lucifer is in the Cage and he’s not coming back out, okay?”</p><p>A pinch of hesitation lingered in Sam’s eyes but he nodded, stilling the motion of his knee with one hand.</p><p>“This is just a bomb,” Dean said, pulling up outside the crumbling shell of a wide building with a flat roof that sagged in the right corner. “And we’re gonna get some pliers and cut the red wire or whatever.”</p><p>“I doubt this is the kind of bomb with wires."</p><p>“Better bring everything just in case."</p><p>The front entrance to the fabric factory was a barely standing door that wheezed noisily on the remaining pair of hinges it hung from. Rust sank its teeth into every inch of the door frame and the stench of mildew stuck to the underside of their nostrils as they stepped inside.</p><p>“Cas?” Dean called out, pivoting the beam of the flashlight around the hobbled shadows. “Cas, where are you?”</p><p>Sam gestured to the left wing of the factory. “I’ll look down there, just shout if you find something.” He hesitated. “And don’t try to take apart anything that looks like a bomb okay.”</p><p>“Right, like you know how to defuse one of those, Tom Cruise,” Dean smirked as he walked off. The rhythm of his footsteps wove between the overturned machinery and loose screws scattered across the floor.</p><p>Sliding one hand to the demon blade in his back pocket Sam kept the other hand clenched tightly to the flashlight handle. The yellow halo of light danced across the blackened walls, exposing the rotten and perforated beams of the sagging structure.</p><p>“Cas?” he called out, and then stopped to silence the reverberation of his own footsteps.</p><p>“Cas?”</p><p>There.</p><p>He heard something. A sound, not so much a voice as a strained gasp, like clenched teeth pulling for air.</p><p>He spun around, moving towards it quickly and then cautiously. It could be Cas or it could be whoever he’d been fighting or whatever was trying to blow up the town. A blotchy silhouette shifted in the far right corner of the room.</p><p>Sam paused. The knife came out of the pocket, the edge of the blade glinting like a star. “Who are you?”</p><p>The shape pressed deeper into the dark. “You shouldn’t be here,” a voice rasped.</p><p>Squinting against the glare of the flashlight Sam caught sight of a beige coat sleeve. “Cas? We’re here, we’re here to help now.”</p><p>“Are they all out yet?”</p><p>“Who? Who was here?” Now that he was almost within arms reach Sam could see that it really was their angel. He was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and head tucked between his arms. He reached out a hand. “Are you--”</p><p>“Don’t,” Cas hissed sharply, withdrawing as much as he could within the small space he was already crouched in. “Don’t touch me. Get the people out of the town and then leave.” He lifted his head a few inches, illuminated by the glow of the flashlight. “You need to leave <em>now</em>.”</p><p>Sam froze and then slowly pulled back. “Dean!”</p><p>The call ricocheted throughout the building, immediately followed by the pounding of running footsteps. “Sam,” Dean panted, pulling up to an abrupt stop. “What is it--Cas?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam let the flashlight sweep over him again. Cas had turned his face to the wall but his clenched hands were clearly visible in the flashlight’s beam. They held the same ripples of blue under the skin that Sam could now see were traveling up Cas’ neck as well.</p><p>Dean surged forward, only stopping when Sam flung an arm across his chest.</p><p>“Dean, wait.”</p><p>“Cas, what happened here? Where’s the bomb? How do we disarm it?”</p><p>“You can’t.” Slowly Cas twisted around, exposing the map of blue veins pulsing across his face. His closed eyelids fluttered open, revealing luminescent blue orbs ablaze with burning white light. “It’s me.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All chapter titles are from the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9BL59uiAz8&amp;list=PLBKadB95sF44vjNzNABcYoF_7ae6lAgJM">soundtrack</a> for "Batman v Superman", which is what I listened to while writing this. Also because that movie could have also been solved if the two had just communicated properly like TFW should have in s6.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Their War Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you mean?” Dean sputtered, looking at his brother and then back at Cas. “What does he mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know, but look at him. Those blue lines--is that...his grace?”</p><p>Dean reached out a hand to touch one of the swelling veins on Cas' hand only to have the angel recoil frantically.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” he insisted, flattening himself further against the wall. “My vessel’s temperature is above one hundred fifty degrees right now. It will burn you.”</p><p>“Who did this to you?” Dean asked just as Sam said “how long do you have left?”</p><p>Dean threw a scathing look at Sam. “What the hell are you talking about?”</p><p>“I’m just trying to figure out what to do, Dean. It’s tied to his grace, right? You’ve been holding it in, trying to keep it from--I don’t know--” Sam struggled to find a delicate word “--from...<em>happening</em> until the people get out of town, right?”</p><p>Cas tipped his head in a nod.</p><p>“But you can’t hold it off forever,” Sam surmised, trying to keep the panic out of his words. “We need to find a way to stabilize you.”</p><p>"You can't." Cas cleared his throat, trying to raise his voice a little. What came out was still little more than a thready whisper. Every word sounded like a nail scratching across concrete. “It has already begun. It cannot be stopped. You have to leave.”</p><p>“Listen--” Dean put out a hand and then remembered the angel's warning and lowered it reluctantly. He could actually feel the waves of heat simmering around Cas if he stood close enough. It wasn't an exaggeration. “Cas, we’re not leaving. Tell us who did this to you.”</p><p>“Is your grace poisoned?” Sam said as he pulled out his phone. “Bobby might know of a purifying ritual.”</p><p>“Not…poisoned.” Cas dug his fingers into his knees and leaned his head forward. His eyes were squeezed shut again, as if bracing himself against the pain. “It’s been...activated.”</p><p>“Who did this to you?” Dean repeated firmly.</p><p>It took a few seconds for him to reply. “It was an order from Raphael.”</p><p>Sam closed his eyes in defeat. Angels. If he had been told two years ago that agents of Heaven would be some of the most barbaric and cruel beings he’d ever known he would never have believed it.</p><p>“It was to be…a deterrent to my side.” Cas paused every few words to suck in air, like he was walking uphill just to get the words out. "If the leader of the angels defending humanity was to wipe out a town of innocents…it would not bode well for gathering recruits, much less…win the war.”</p><p>“The leader defending humanity?” Dean frowned.</p><p>“Dean.” Cas lifted his head up and even though his eyes were closed Dean could still feel the glare of impatience expressed in those arched eyebrows. “When can I make you understand? Raphael wants to bring on the Apocalypse. I am trying to...stop him.”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t think you really meant--”</p><p>“Wait a minute,” Sam interrupted. “I need to know what he means mean by ‘activated.’ Is this something only an angel can undo? Or is there a spell or sigil that can deactivate it?”</p><p>Cas fell silent. Drops of sweat glinted as they ran in thick rivers down from his forehead. “<em>Burning</em>.” The word escaped in a shudder and he hugged his knees closer together.</p><p>“What’s burning?” Sam prompted.</p><p>“Holy oil. It has been mixed with my grace to activate it for maximum… damage upon release.”</p><p>Dean stared at him and then turned helplessly to Sam. “No, that’s not--how could they do that?”</p><p>Cas raised one hand and pressed it shakily to his throat.</p><p>Sam wheeled around, pressing a hand to his mouth to keep down the bile coursing through his stomach. He could hear it now, in every painful word Cas was dragging out from a throat raw and shredded from being force-fed the one substance that could incinerate him down the very core of his being. Judging from Dean’s speechless expression and the horror rising in his eyes he must have come to the same realization.</p><p>“Please leave,” came the scratchy plea from Cas again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>Dean scrambled to his feet. “Sam, make sure Officer Kingsley is getting the rest of the people out. I’ll talk with Bobby about finding something to counter this. And Cas, you just hang tight. How much longer can you hold it off?”</p><p>He peeled his eyes open a crack. The familiar blue was almost completely swallowed by the churning tide of white, so bright it hurt to look at. Closing his eyes again he lowered his head. “Not long. Not long enough."</p><p>“We’ll make sure it’s long enough, okay?” Dean raised the phone to his ear only to pause when Cas spoke up.</p><p>“There is one way to stop it.”</p><p>Despite already being halfway across the room Sam sprinted back immediately. “What is it?”</p><p>“You need…this.” Cas shifted in increments, hitching his shoulders back and putting his right arm down. The silver tip of his blade slowly protruded from his coat sleeve and he shrugged a little more, letting it glide down into his hand. He pressed the tip of the blade to the ground, using it as a support to start rising to his feet. Dean rushed over to help him up only to jerk his hand back. The blistering heat made even touching the trench coat feel grabbing a glowing coal.</p><p>Cas steadied himself with one hand to the wall and held out his blade to Dean.</p><p>“What do we do with this?” Sam asked. “Do we draw a sigil, can we refocus your grace somehow?”</p><p>“No. You need to eliminate the grace completely.”</p><p>“And how do we do that?” Dean said, taking the blade gingerly.  </p><p>Cas stood still on his feet, swaying from side to side. “You kill me.”</p><p>Dean dropped the blade like it had stabbed him. “No. No, we’re not going to do that.”</p><p>“The people…Dean, you need to save them.” Cas bent down to retrieve the blade and stumbled, collapsing to his knees. “Please.” He turned to Sam, staring up at him with those white sightless eyes, the blade laying across his uplifted hands like an offering. “Do the right...thing. Save the people. They have no part in this war. They are innocent.” There was a pause before he added softly, "I will not suffer. It will be a swift death."</p><p>Sam looked away, fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes. “I can’t, Cas. I can’t.”</p><p>“It would not be in vain,” Cas went on, as if that was the primary concern. “I have died before and I would…gladly die again as long as I know that…Raphael will not win. Sam. Dean. You can save all of them. I have faith in you.”</p><p>“All right, stop with the dying crap, okay?" Dean burst out. He marched over and tugged on the hilt of the blade, trying to get it out of the angel's grip before he decided to turn it on himself. "It's not gonna happen. Not today." </p><p>“Yeah.” Sam moved to sit down at the other side. “You said you have faith in us. Do you believe that we can get you out of this? Alive? Because that’s what we’re going to do,” he continued, glancing over at Dean for an affirming nod. “Help us find a way to save you <em>and</em> the town.”</p><p>Cas opened his mouth as if to speak and then clamped it shut, features crumpling into a twist of agony. “Burns,” he gasped, rolling over on his side. “Go! Don’t let me…hurt you.” His forehead bumped against Sam’s knee, scalding the fabric to black charred strings. Streams of white came flaring out from under his eyelids, the same way it had looked when Alastair had tried to exorcise him from his vessel. “<em>Goodbye,</em>” his lips moved silently.</p><p>“Stay in there!” Sam yelled as he shrugged out of his jacket and pressed it against Cas’ eyes.</p><p>Dean pulled his own jacket off and added it on top when Sam’s jacket started smoking. After a minute they both had to lift their hands off with the crumpled suit jackets now reduced to smoldering lumps. They held their breath as Cas flipped over onto his back, body arching off the ground before dropping back down in a shudder.   </p><p>“Cas?” Dean ventured cautiously. “Are you still with us?”</p><p>Slowly Cas folded over, curling himself into a fetal position. “I am...attempting to be.”  </p><p>“Okay," Dean exhaled with relief. "Sammy, over here.” He motioned for his brother to step to the side and lowered his voice.  “What do we do?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Sam confessed, studiously avoiding the sight of the angel blade still lying on the floor. “If it’s attached to his grace then maybe there’s a way we can get his grace out without killing him?”</p><p>“Like Anna? Won’t he turn into a baby then?”</p><p>“Can’t…” Cas said from behind them. “Angels…cutting out our grace causes it to gather all at the point of extraction. That would only...accelerate the activation. I would detonate instantaneously.”</p><p>Dean swallowed hard, trying to banish the visual of those words. He remembered Lucifer, the way Cas had burst into a shower of flesh and blood…the blood splashed over the debri of Chuck’s house and the prophet telling them that Cas had exploded like a--</p><p>“What about if we cut out the grace slower?” Sam spoke up.</p><p>Dean frowned. “Like bit by bit?”</p><p>Sam nodded. “If we figure out a way to drain it, but not all at once so he doesn’t you-know-what.”</p><p>“And we could put it into one of Bobby’s sigiled boxes, take it somewhere else to deactivate it or set it off or something.” Dean turned to Cas. “At least it wouldn’t go off here and now. Is that possible?”</p><p>A muscle ticked in Cas’ jaw. “It might...you would have to bleed it out. You have to wound me with my blade...it will puncture my true form.”</p><p>Dean held up a hand. “That just sounds like another way of killing you, Cas, we’ve been over this, we won’t--”</p><p>“No I--” His limbs suddenly thrashed, writhing in a violent spasms and Cas bit down on his lower lip, hard enough that the skin broke and blood discolored his teeth. The strangled sound of his clipped breaths wheezing in agony echoed through the empty building and Dean wished to a God he didn’t believe in that there was something, <em>anything</em> he could do to put a stop to the torment happening right in front of him.</p><p>When Cas finally regained control he glanced back up at them. “I won’t die. I will simply be...weak. I will recover.”</p><p>“Better be telling the truth,” Dean warned him.</p><p>Sam pulled out his phone. “I’ll get the ingredients from Bobby on how to make one of those sigiled boxes, you stay here with Cas.”</p><p>“There should be a metal box in the trunk, you can probably use that,” Dean called after him. “Oh I saw a store that was still open on the way in, see if you can get some ice packs. Might help cool him down a bit.”</p><p>After Sam left Dean scanned the area around him, trying to find something more comfortable for Cas to lay on. He spotted a lumpy pile of fabric rolls in the corner and ran over to grab them. They were dusty and full of what looked like rodent-bitten holes but at least they were thick and better than the concrete floor. After laying them out on top of the other he managed to make them into a makeshift bed. It took Cas several minutes of scooting forward inch by inch until he reached the fabric pile and eased on top of it.</p><p>“Better?” Dean asked, sitting down cross-legged beside him.</p><p>“Dean. If your brother does not return in time…promise me one thing.”</p><p>“Save the speech, dude. I’m not going to kill you.” Dean watched warily as the first layer of the fabric pile began to crackle like tinder on flame. A charred shape formed around the center where Cas lay, trembling in seemingly endless convulsions. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest like he was holding himself down.</p><p>“I know." His eyes closed as if in resignation. "Promise me…something else.”</p><p>“Fine,” Dean relented. “What is it?”</p><p>“Run. Do not come back, no matter what. No matter what you hear."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77DOTx6y1os">Their War Here</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Do You Bleed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hear what?” Dean flicked a look around them. “What would I hear?”</p><p>“I have seen this happen before.” Moving onto his side Cas pressed his knees closer to his body. “It is a strategy for those injured in battle. It is meant to be a willing sacrifice…not a punishment.”</p><p>Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “<em>Jesus. </em>You’re saying--you’re saying you guys had suicide bombers?”</p><p>“No. It is hard to explain. They were…” Two fingers untucked themselves from the tightly wound fist and reached out. “Can…can I show you?”</p><p>The last thing Dean wanted to see, while his friend was sweating under the strain of being a living bomb, was a vision of angels blowing themselves up in God’s name. At the same time it was hard to refuse the angel of anything in his current state. Just the effort of extending those two fingers already made his arm quiver, the outstretched limb bobbing from side to side.</p><p>Dean scooted forward warily. “Okay, just don’t accidentally zap me into the future or something.” His spine tightened as the Cas' fingers drew near but never actually touched his forehead.</p><p>
  <em>And then he’s standing in the middle of a battlefield with blood and black feathers swimming around his feet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Swirls of  translucent light take human forms, appearing all around him like ghosts materializing. Their silver blades are lifted, blazing like torches. Ash coats the air in layers, making every slice of blade through the wind feel like cutting through a velvet curtain. Hellfire coils in serpentine formation through the mangled remains of the wounded, snapping up the last breaths of the dying.</em>
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  <em>The others fall, one by one, crying out in gasps that are drowned by hellhounds' roars. A lone angel rises from under the broken limbs of his comrades; he has the appearance of a young man with auburn hair. His right leg is missing, blood and light flowing from the severed stump. He catches the eye of one of his comrades who is still fighting. They exchange a mere flicker of sight that is a message enough. </em>
  <em>The wounded angel turns and drags himself along on one elbow to the side where a discarded sack lays. From the torn fibers of hemp he withdraws an earthen vessel and puts it to his lips, oil splashing down his chin in ripples as he drinks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Retreat” comes the call; not spoken but imbibed into the mind of the few remaining and they flutter away one at a time, stars winking out of a bleeding sky. The red headed angel abides alone, the sole emissary of God amidst the bowels of the depraved. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Demons and hounds come for him, rushing with tongues wagging and lips sneering. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He kneels in the ash of his fallen comrades; kneels and puts his own blade to his throat, cutting around deep and wide. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Silver wisps bubble out off the gaping wound, followed by spears of shooting white light. The light arches from his neck as every stitch of skin on the angel splits asunder. His mouth cracks wide apart in a scream as flames erupt from scalp to toe, sweeping out to swallow the enemy in tidal waves of fire. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The fire rages on and the screams never die. Not after the last hellhound is reduced to mere bone marrow; not after the last demon is but a mote of soot; not after the sky has returned to blush in blue. A shadow of the divine being endures throughout the endless flame, writhing in agony as his essence is slowly charred away, leaving a land too barren for any sapling or blossom to ever dare grow there again.</em>
</p><p>Dean’s eyes blew open wide and he stumbled away, backing up hard against the wall. His hands clenched at his shirt and pants, feeling for evidence that he was real and not back there where the sounds of an angel burning alive had poured through his ears.  “What the hell,” he choked out, blinking away the tears stinging his eyes. “Was that…”</p><p>“You call it part of the Atacama Desert now. I remember him as Philandriel.” He pulled his hand back and buried it under his other arm. “Do not fear…I won’t turn this land into a desert. What Philandriel did was the most powerful way to detonate. I’ve been suppressing it… as much as I can. I will only burn for a week or two, at the most.”</p><p>“Oh god Cas…” Dean wiped a hand across his eyes. “That’s not what--you’re not going to--you’re <em>not</em>.” His ears were still buzzing from the vision, and he put his head down between his arms, forcing himself to take deep breaths and re-stabilize his bearings again. “I’m sorry, man. I should have listened when you told me about Raphael and the war. It should have never come to this, they should have never--”</p><p>“You’re just a man, Dean.” Cas’ voice was thin and tired. Dean thought of Philandriel again and wondered what kind of Herculean feat Cas was pulling off just to keep himself from burning out right now. “You cannot stand between a war of angels.”</p><p>“Hey, you and me and Sammy and Bobby took down Lucifer. We don’t suck for an army of four.”</p><p>A half-formed cry gurgled from Cas’ throat and he lolled his head back, eyelids bursting open. Dean scrambled to his feet and grabbed one of the extra fabric rolls. Pressing it over the angel’s eyes he winced as tuffs of escaping light scalded his fingertips. “Woah, woah, get your ass back in there, Cas! Come on, Sam is gonna be back any minute now.”</p><p>“Balthazar,” Cas croaked beneath his hands. “You must find him. He will take my place…when I am gone. I trust him.”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Dean grunted, lifting up his hands when the fabric roll started to feel like a kitchen stove. “No offense but I’d much rather work with you than that smarmy guy. He’s kinda an ass.”</p><p>“Not your fight…” The words slipped out like a sigh and Cas finally settled back the makeshift bed, or what little was left of it. In the throes of the fit more of the bed had burnt off, leaving a shrunken little shape that Cas huddled into. “You are free, Dean…” he murmured, covering his face with his hands. “Free…”</p><p>“Alright, just stay still.” Dean wasn’t sure what Cas was going on about but he knew that Sam needed to get there soon. Or the next time Cas seized up might be the last time he could hold himself in one piece.  “Come on, come on,” he muttered, craning a look over his shoulder to see if Sam’s blessed towering form was anywhere near the entrance.</p><p>He couldn’t see anything but he heard the sweet choir of the Impala’s engine in the distance and knew that Sam would come running in at any minute. Sure enough the curtains of dusk parted for the beam of a flashlight and Sam appeared, arms full of plastic bags and various objects that almost tumbled loose as he screeched to a stop.</p><p>“Ice,” he began, tossing a bag over to Dean who immediately pulled out the packages and started packing them around Cas’ arms and face.</p><p>“Bobby gave me the recipe for a powerful protection spell. Should be able to hold the grace in the box until we can get rid of it.” Sam pulled a metal box out from the second bag and handed the hilt of the demon knife to Dean. “Found most of the other ingredients in the Impala but it needs both of our blood.”</p><p>“Okay, gimme a sec. Cas, is this helping?</p><p>“It is helping my vessel,” the angel replied dully. “Sam. You’re here.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam tried to smile and then realized Cas still had his eyes closed. “Spell’s almost ready. How do we start to bleed the grace out?”</p><p>Cas moved to sit up, causing all the ice packs to flop off. Dean snatched them up before they hit the floor and re-positioned them around Cas’ legs and side.</p><p>“You need to use the blade. Make an incision, not fatal but large enough...to let the grace out.”</p><p>Dean and Sam exchanged glances, first at each other and then at the object in question lying a few inches away. It gleamed like a shard of lightning in the light of the battery-run lamp Sam had brought in.</p><p>“Do we have to use the blade?” Sam asked.</p><p>“If you do not injure my true form it will not work.” Cas undid the buttons of his shirt and peeled the sides back. “Do not stop until I tell you to.”</p><p>“Oven mitts?” Dean frowned, pulling the last item out of the bag.</p><p>Sam shrugged. “In case we need to help hold him down. Like right now.”</p><p>“He’s not a damn Sunday roast, Sam, I’m not going to--”</p><p>“Dean.” Sam leveled him with an impatient glare. “Do you want to make the cut or keep him from falling over?”</p><p>Dean tore the packaging from the gloves. “Guess you get to play doctor, Sammy.”</p><p>Making the incision was harder than Sam thought it would be. He’d done his fair share of field surgery; the blood didn’t pale him, nor the knowledge that he was taking a knife to flesh. But Cas was already staggering under the agony of being pumped full of holy oil. If Dean hadn’t been holding his shoulders down Cas might have thrown Sam across the room the way he flinched so violently at the first cut.</p><p>“Apologies,” Cas gasped, screwing his eyes shut tighter. “Keep going.”</p><p>“Don’t say sorry,” Sam muttered, trying to keep his hand steady. He drew back when the incision finally reached the edge of Cas’ abdomen, only to see the wound close itself back up.</p><p>“Deeper.” Cas set his jaw rigidly, throat bobbing in anticipation. “You need…to cut deeper.”</p><p>Sam glanced up helplessly only to see Dean shake his head vigorously, balking from the unspoken request in his eyes. So the blade stayed in his hand. Sam readjusted his grip and sent up a prayer he knew only Cas could hear.</p><p>
  <em>I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. We will find whoever did this to you and make them pay.</em>
</p><p>Then he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and drove the blade into Cas’ side.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMDJJbvwG5o">Do You Bleed?</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Beautiful Lie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas jerked as the blade dug in, letting out a guttural scream that rattled the beams of the building and shattered the few intact windows. Blood and blue gushed from the wound, washing over Sam’s fingers and down to his wrist.</p><p>Dean swatted at his brother's arm with the smoking oven mitts, eyes wide with terror. “Sam, enough! Stop hurting him!”</p><p>“No,” Cas hissed. “Not yet. A little more” He pushed his fist into his mouth and clamped his teeth around the white knuckles. “<em>Now</em>.”</p><p>Sam took a breath and pushed it in harder.</p><p>This time there was no scream, only the sickening <em>crunch</em> as Cas bit through his own hand. Broken pieces of bone protruded from his snapped fingers as blood spurted from the mangled skin. Sam dragged the blade down deeper until white came seeping out along with tendrils of blue.</p><p>“Enough,” Cas gasped and Sam immediately let go of the bloodied blade. He snatched up the sigiled box and positioned it under the wound as twin streams of radiance poured into the four corners.</p><p>Dean dropped the gloves and reached over, pulling Cas’ hand out of his mouth. "Crap." He couldn’t even figure out which fingers to set, there was so much flesh tangled in the pulverized hand. “Next time ask for a belt or something.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t have helped,” Cas replied grimly. “I would rather break a hand than my jaw. I can heal it…later.” He titled his head to the side, brow furrowed as if deep in thought. His eyes remained closed but Sam figured he could feel the exodus of himself cascading out from a five inch chasm in his side. “Do not let it all drain out. There is a…pocket of untainted grace tucked away in me. I saved it before my grace was activated. It will help me to...recover.”</p><p>“Okay." Sam rose to his feet unsteadily. Now that his job was done he needed something to clean his hands with and stop them from shaking. He felt Dean nudging him in shoulder and offering him a bottle of water and a scrap of cloth, both of which he took gratefully.</p><p>Outside the sky was already dark; they couldn’t have been there for more than an hour and yet it felt like the world outside had completely eclipsed them the moment they had seen Cas there in the corner, veins brimming with explosive power.</p><p>“He’s getting cooler already,” Dean said, taking the water bottle from Sam’s clammy hands. “Did the rest of the town get out?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam looked down at his hands, now wiped clean and quickly tossed the soiled rag aside. “I talked to Officer Kingsley and she was eager to help. I just--” his eyes fell to his hands again. They still felt warm and slick with blood, even though his palms were dry.</p><p>Dean pushed the water bottle back into his hands. The cool plastic shape helped to ground his wavering vision. “Sorry I got a bit--when--you know.” He nodded towards the discarded angel blade. “For a minute I thought you were--its just, when you were gone Cas showed me this vision of another angel who got their grace activated. It was bad, Sammy. Really bad.”</p><p>Sam nodded understandingly. “It's gonna be your turn at the wheel when we have to stitch him up. You’re better at that; Dad always said you had neater stitches.”</p><p>“That’s just cuz I had more practice fixing up your dumb ass,” Dean smirked, taking the bottle back and finishing the contents with a thirsty gulp. “How long do you think it will take for all the--”</p><p>“Cas!” Sam rushed forward as the angel toppled over to the side. He slipped his arms around Cas by instinct and was surprised to find the waves of heat completely gone. The back of his coat was wet to the touch, utterly drenched in a cold sweat. “He’s losing a lot of blood. Is the white stuff all gone?”</p><p>“Not yet.” Dean sat down on the other side of the mattress and wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulder. “We gotta keep him keep him awake. Hey, listen, talk to me.”</p><p>“Dean.” Cas cracked one eyelid open and then the other. The intensity of the white in his eyes had dimmed a little. “Sam.”</p><p>Sam took Cas' broken hand and rested it atop his knee, trying to press together the loose pieces of skin and pick the pieces of shattered bone out of the blood. “Tell us about the grace,” he said. “You said there’s some of it that’s not mixed with holy oil. How did you manage that?”</p><p>“Yeah, is that something they teach you in Heaven’s training camp? Like a reverse cyanide pill?”  </p><p>Cas slumped towards Dean’s shoulder. “I wanted to grow a tree,” he said into Dean’s shirt.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Sycamore. Or a willow, perhaps. I always favored their leaf pattern.”</p><p> “What’s he talking about?” Dean mouthed to Sam.</p><p>“Anna,” came the muffled reply from Cas.</p><p>“Anna,” Sam repeated. He tried to parse through the timeline of them finding her in a mental hospital to her becoming an angel again and then trying to kill their parents. “Her grace," he realized. "Remember she said that grace is pure creation? And that when hers fell it grew into a tree, something natural and miraculous?”</p><p>“Yeah but she fell. Cas isn’t falling, is he? Cas, hey,” Dean slapped the side of his face. “Don’t fall asleep, buddy, keep talking. What did you mean, about the tree?”</p><p>Cas stared at him with a broken blue gaze. “After the explosion, after I burned out, the pocket of untainted grace would remain. From it would grow a tree." He straightened up a little. "A tree is not much, Dean, but it can stand for decades. Not even Raphael and all his machinations can defy… a stand for freedom like that.”</p><p>A knot twisted in Dean's stomach and he looked away. "Yeah, that's great," he managed weakly. It stung to know that Cas hadn’t saved the grace to save his own life; it had just been to plant a damn tree once he'd already burned to death. Cas had accepted, long before they arrived, that he wouldn’t be saved. His Hail Mary consisted of saving a part of himself to grow into a symbol for the faith he was willing to die for. A faith Dean had convinced him to believe in, and look where it had led him.</p><p>Sam peered over to look at the dribble flowing into the box. The grace was still white-blue, seeping out of the wound in ghost-like tendrils.</p><p>Dean shifted, pulling Cas upright again as he sagged downwards. “You can’t fall asleep, Cas, okay. Stay with us. Sam, maybe get him some water to drink.”</p><p>“Raphael,” the angel moaned.</p><p>Sam stiffened, the water bottle plastic crinkling in his sudden grip. “Is he here?”</p><p> “No. But he will come for me. He always does. Submit or die.” He grabbed at Dean’s sleeve, peering into his face desperately. “Those were my choices. Submit or die. What would you have done?”</p><p>“You know me,” Dean tried to keep a nonchalant grin on his face. “I would have gone down swinging.”</p><p>Taking the offered water bottle Cas started to lift it to his lips but he could barely hold it still, much less take a sip before the contents went splashing out over his hand. Sam leaned over and steadied the bottle, tipping it back so Cas could drink.  </p><p>“There we go, just drink slowly, slow down.” Sam pulled the bottle back after a few seconds. “There’s plenty of it, okay. Feel any better?”</p><p>“It is not your fight,” Cas said, jabbing a feeble finger at Dean’s chest. “You…wanted freedom. And you,” he swiveled around and latched onto Sam’s shoulder. “You suffered greatly in the Cage. I pulled you out so you could live in peace, not fight off another apocalypse.”</p><p>Sam dropped the bottle, sending the rest of the water spilling off his shoes. His eyes flicked up to see that his brother was wearing the same glassy expression of disbelief. Wrestling down the uproar that was starting in his mind he forced his hands to lie flat against his knees. “You--you pulled me out of Hell?”</p><p>Cas let go of him, shrinking back as if in fear. “Michael and Lucifer were so close behind. Hellfire,” his eyes flitted to the ceiling. “It burns. I was shielding you as much as I could.”</p><p>Sam shook his head. “<em>You </em>pulled me out of Hell?” </p><p>Cas winced as a spurt of grace bubbled from the wound. “S-Sam,” he sputtered, meeting his eyes through a crumpled expression of pain. “I do not expect your forgiveness. I only hope in time you might understand. I did not know. I did not.”  </p><p>“You pulled me out of Hell,” Sam repeated, incredulously. </p><p>“Did a pretty piss-poor job of it,” came Dean’s remark from across him.</p><p>“Not now,” Sam glared at him from behind Cas. There would be time later for the riot of questions and emotions swirling through his mind. He schooled his face to maintain a facade of restraint. “Keep him talking, Dean. J-just not about that.”</p><p>Something like a grumble came from Dean’s corner but he kept steadying the drifting angel by the arm. “Wake up,” he commanded, shaking him awake. “Is the tainted grace all out yet?”</p><p>Cas lifted an eyelid open. “Soon,” he mumbled. “Dean.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Balthazar.”</p><p>“I know.” In response to Sam’s questioning look he added, “Cas thinks we’re supposed to go to that asshat for help with Raphael--”</p><p>“If I do not survive this,” Cas cut in, his voice gathering fervor despite the weakness of it. “You must tell him, war requires regrettable choices for us all. Raphael cannot be allowed to win…no matter what.”</p><p>“You’re gonna survive,” Dean retorted, “and you’ll be able to kick that mutant ninja angel in the ass yourself, okay?”</p><p>“Balthazar.” Cas lolled his head from side to side. “Tell him…cannot beat Raphael on his own.”</p><p>Sam patted his arm reassuringly. “You won’t be alone, Cas. Me and Dean and Bobby, we’ll all find a way to stop him. Just hang in there, okay?”</p><p>“Not you.” Cas made a movement of shoving Sam’s hand away but in his current state he could barely do more than brush his fingertips against his wrist. “I have plans set in…motion. This is not your fight.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, do you have another secret hell-raising plan up your sleeve?” Dean snapped.</p><p>Cas’ eyes flicked open wide. “How did you know about Crowley?” he whispered.</p><p>Dean felt his arm go numb. He didn’t even realize he’d dropped his hand until Sam lunged around to hold Cas up before he keeled over.</p><p>“No. No no no.” Dean dragged a hand across his face, repeating each <em>no </em>more emphatically than the last. “Crowley’s dead.”</p><p>“I am sorry.” The angel dipped his head penitently. “Regrettable choices…war…he can make me strong enough to defeat Raphael.”</p><p>“What the hell, Cas? You don’t even have a soul to sell.”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam spoke up, “it’s not the right time for--”</p><p>“Purgatory,” Cas wheezed, fist pressed against his chest as a string of coughing interrupted his words. White flecks of grace splattered across his lap and Sam stared at them in horror. “We’re going to find…Purgatory. Souls. Raphael will destroy everything. I have to…” he tipped forward, the metal box almost spilling over before Dean caught it in time.</p><p>“Dean, look.” Sam pointed at the stream of grace, now a crystal blue sullied only by the blood surging out. “We need to stitch him up now, and fast.”</p><p>Dean blinked, refocusing his energy on the situation in front of him. “Lay him down,” he instructed. “You hold the wound together, I’ll stitch it. Keep him still!”</p><p>“Light,” the angel mumbled, eyeballs rolling into the white of his eyes. “This lightness feels…so heavy.”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam gritted out between clenched teeth.</p><p>“I’ve got it.” Dean steadied his hand to push the needle and thread through the folds of skin. <em>In and out, over and under.</em> It gave him something to think about, away from the revelation he'd just heard. Away from the blood pulsing warm over his fingertips and the drifting voice of the angel.</p><p>“Bright…” Cas gasped with a shudder, gazing vacantly above. “I would very much like…” his head dropped to the side and he stared at Dean. “I want to go home,” he whispered timidly, like a prayer they weren’t supposed to hear. He looked so small and lost in that moment that Dean couldn’t even get any words out in response.</p><p>“Yeah, we’ll take you back to Bobby’s where you can rest,” Sam said gently, patting his shoulder. “Just a few more minutes, okay?”</p><p>A few stitches away from closing the wound Dean felt the tug of cold fingers closing around his wrist. He looked over to see Cas pulling himself up a few inches off the ground. “Submit or die,” the angel chattered, teeth knocking into each other. “Submit or die. I could not, Dean. I would not.”</p><p>The last syllable evaporated off his lips as he dropped his head back down and closed his eyes.</p><p>“Cas!”</p><p>“Keep going.” Sam pressed a finger to Cas’ neck. “He has a pulse. Sort of. Let’s get this done and get him out of here.”</p><p>Dean finished the final stitch and wrapped the wound in gauze and then, when that ran out, added on several layers of the unburnt strips of fabric. Finally he rose to his feet, taking in the ashes scattered around where Cas was lying motionless; the blackened spot of the room he’d been huddled in when they first found him; the blood staining the knees of his jeans and both his hands. “Yeah. Let’s get him home.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9BL59uiAz8">Beautiful Lie</a></p><p>
  <a href="https://angelfishofthelord.tumblr.com">my tumblr</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Problems Up Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The steady pulse of the Impala’s engine was the only music playing on the drive back to Bobby’s. Laying out in the back seat under a pile of blankets was Cas, who still hadn’t stirred since the two had had to carry him over after he passed out. Dean wasn't quite sure if he was sleeping or unconscious but he hoped that the residual untainted grace was repairing whatever internal damage there might be. Cas wasn’t human enough that they could bring him to a hospital, especially not with a wound that couldn’t be explained away. And Dean didn’t think there was anything that Bobby could possibly find in his books to help an angel recover from being force-fed holy oil and then having their true form stabbed by their friends.</p><p>Friends. Dean pushed down the word bobbing to the surface of his mind. They were friends--at least, Dean thought they were. Then Cas had gone and confessed a litany of lies that ranged from being the one who raised his brother from Hell to having tricked them into believing Crowley was dead so he could work with the bastard to open up the gates of monsterland.</p><p>That last one he was still struggling to wrap his head around. The scene of Cas burning Crowley’s bones replayed on his head in an endless loop. Every now and then the scene would glitch like a broken television, and be interjected with those last words Cas said to him:<em> “Submit or die. I could not.”</em></p><p>Dean shook his head. Those wouldn’t be Cas’ last words. He couldn’t think of them like that. Cas would survive and stick around just long enough for Dean to yell at him before he ran off to do his own thing. Again.</p><p>“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us,” Sam said aloud, putting a halt to the spin of Dean’s anger merry-go-round. “He could have let us know that he was the one who pulled me out ages ago.”</p><p>“And tell us what? ‘Hey I’m the one who got Sam out but forgot a little something.’ You know exactly how that would’ve gone down. I would have tried to kick his ass before he even got a chance to explain more.” Dean’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Hell, that’s maybe the <em>only</em> part of this that I get.”</p><p>Sam leaned against the window. He let out a long sigh, his breath fogging up a circle on the glass. “Yeah, you’re right. You <em>would </em>be an ass about it.”</p><p>“What, like you’d be peachy cool with it? You were soulless at the time, you’d probably try and kill him or something.”</p><p>Just as Sam opened his mouth to reply he suddenly found himself remembering a night of shadows and Cas standing there, trying to explain why he couldn’t drop everything to help them. His jaw clamped shut and he sunk a little deeper in his seat, hoping in vain that Dean hadn’t noticed anything.</p><p>“Spit it out, dude. You’re thinking so loud it hurts.”</p><p>“I-I actually...I did threaten to kill him.” Sam wished he didn’t have to hear himself say those words. “When we were--that time we were trying to summon Crowley. I--” a faint sinus pull lingered at the base of his head as he tried to sharpen the image in his mind. “He was mid-battle, he said. He tried to explain that he didn’t have time and...I said I’d hunt him down and kill him if he didn’t drop everything and help us.”</p><p>Dean didn’t reply immediately. He kept his eyes on the road ahead as it disappeared beneath them. “You weren’t yourself at the time,” he finally said weakly. “He of all people knew that. In fact, it’s his own damn fault that you were like that in the first place!”</p><p>“He was mid-battle,” Sam repeated, the reality of the situation breaking over him like coming up to surface for air. “What if it cost him a victory against Raphael because I--”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” Dean cut in quickly. “He didn’t give us the deets on any of the going-ons up there. How were we supposed to know that it was--”</p><p>“Life or death? Dean, this is all so messed up. I don’t even know where to start. I mean--” he sucked in a breath and then straightened up slowly. “Wait--you didn’t…did you ask him to do it, did you? We agreed you wouldn’t try to get me out!”</p><p>“Of course not, I didn’t even know he <em>could</em>. I thought it wasn’t possible. No idea how he managed the stunt, considering the Cage is built to keep in archangels.” Tilting the mirror down Dean peered at the huddled form of the angel still unmoving in the back. “Stupid son of a bitch probably went in on his own, thinking he had the mojo to pull it off.”</p><p>Hellfire. Sam remembered the way Cas had recounted the incident with the single word, eyes flicking away like he didn’t want to bring the tide of that excruciating memory ashore. “Yeah, but still. He didn’t have to leave me--leave us in the dark for so long about it.”</p><p>“Well it seems like he’s been honing his lying abilities”, Dean grunted, flashing the lights at a sedan that tried to pass them in the next lane. “Look at this whole Crowley thing. He’s working with Crowley! Of all people.” His fist landed on the horn as the errant car swerved in front of them, barely missing them by a few inches.</p><p>Sam nodded. “If he needed help with Raphael he should have come to us first.”</p><p>Dean’s face darkened. He stared at the dark horizon ahead, trying to find the optimistic line he knew he should deliver. But right now there were more shadows than light in his mind. “I honestly have no clue what to do with this Raphael situation. I know we said we’d help him but with what? There’s no Cage. There’s no rings. We're coming up against an archangel empty-handed.”</p><p>Silence webbed between them as the night sprawled out in front of them. Sam stretched back to check on Cas and make sure he hadn’t rolled off the seat. They hadn't been able to find him a spare change of clothes, their own spares having been burnt up or soaked in blood. They’d had to leave him wearing the same disheveled trench coat and dress shirt, the bloodied hem peeking out from under the blankets.</p><p>Sam shifted back into his seat, hands knotted in his lap. “We were working with Crowley,” he said after they’d driven a few more miles.</p><p>Dean shot a prickly look at him. “That’s not--we were trying to get your soul back.”</p><p>“Yeah. And Cas was trying to save the world. And he would have died--”</p><p>“He didn’t,” Dean cut in. “He didn’t. He won’t,” he added firmly, trying to make a hope stand as strong as a promise.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>By the time they pulled up to the scrapyard outside Bobby’s house the digits on the dash were showing the time as 3:34. Dean elbowed Sam who’d fallen asleep, cheek flattened against the window. “Get up, lazy ass,” he repeated, poking him in the ribs until his brother’s eyes squinted open and he whacked Dean’s hand away.</p><p>“I’m awake,” he announced, running his hands through his hair before patting it back down. “How is he?”</p><p>Dean raised an eyebrow in the direction of the backseat. “Alive.”</p><p>Sam turned around in his seat to see Cas sitting up, close to the door with his shoulder pressed to the frame. The blanket was off his shoulders and draped beside him but his hand was still clenched in the fabric as if he missed the comfort of it. He was looking away, out the window and somewhere beyond the blackened distance around them.</p><p>“Hey! You’re up. How are you feeling?”</p><p>“I will recover,” came the grave reply. “When I have fully regained my strength I will return and find a way to repay you for--” his hand motioned to the swath of bandages around his side “--this.”</p><p>“Cas, in this state, where are you heading off too?” Sam asked.</p><p>“Back to your demon pal?” Dean interrupted snippily.</p><p>“What Dean means--” Sam began hurriedly, unsure of how much Cas remembered of what he’d said. Maybe it was a delirium brought on by the grace loss and they could talk to Bobby and figure out how to deal with it before Cas knew that they knew.</p><p>The angel turned to face them. “I know what I told you when the chances of my survival looked…slim. I don’t anticipate that you agree with my actions, or even understand them. But that does not change what I have to do.” He tugged the blanket a little closer before releasing it reluctantly, letting it slide off the edge of the seat. “Thank you for everything.”</p><p>“Wait.” Dean put out a hand. “You can’t just flutter off like that. You can barely even move.”</p><p>“I will find somewhere else to recuperate until I can function properly again.”</p><p>“Like hell,” Dean snorted. “We might be pissed with you but we’re not dicks. We’re not gonna leave you out somewhere defenseless where your frat brothers might nab you again.” He opened the car door and motioned to Sam. “Help him out, I’ll grab the boxed nuke and come around.”</p><p>It took a moment for Cas to reluctantly peel himself off his seat. The moment he put his feet down on the ground his legs buckled beneath the weight and he grabbed at Sam’s arm to catch himself before hitting the ground.  </p><p>“Dean!” Sam grunted, hauling Cas’ arm around his shoulder.</p><p>“Gotcha, gotcha,” Dean sighed, hurrying over to support him on the other side. “ ‘Somewhere else’ my ass. You can’t even crawl to the road like this.”</p><p>Cas hung between their grip, shoes dragging a path of dust behind him as they hauled him along. His eyes were pinched shut and little gasps escaped from his clenched jaw. Step by step the boys inched forward until they were on the front porch and Bobby was flinging the door open.</p><p>“Living room couch,” Bobby directed, moving aside to let them in. “Stuff’s all there. What about the explosive grace?”</p><p>“Still in the trunk,” Dean puffed, lowering Cas on the sofa. “You come up with some kind of disarming spell?”</p><p>“Somethin’ like it. Can’t say for sure if it’ll work.”</p><p>“I’ll check Cas’ stitches and change the bandages,” Sam offered. </p><p>“Okay.” Dean cast a wary look at the angel before he left, as if needing visual confirmation that he wasn’t going to fly off. Then his gaze shifted to Sam. “If you heard something that sounds like a bomb going off then come give us a hand.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “Not funny, jerk.”</p><p>“Bitch,” Dean returned before following Bobby out the front door.</p><p>Cas reached out a hand as Sam started to peel back the layers of soaked bandages. “Sam,” he rasped, nudging his prying fingers away. “You do not have to do this. I will heal in time.”</p><p>Sam gently but firmly removed his hand and set to work. He was relieved to see that the stitches were still intact and holding the wound together. Grabbing the bottle of disinfectant and a swath of  gauze he gave Cas a warning off “this might sting a bit” before carefully wiping around the wound. The wound that <em>he</em> had made. Repeatedly, with the angel’s own blade that was now lying somewhere in the trunk of the Impala. Dean had made a grab for it before they left the factory; Sam couldn’t even touch it without feeling the bubble of nausea in his throat. Cas made no response as Sam worked but he could feel the tension of his muscles, how his shoulders were braced back like he was steeling himself from crying out. The lines of pain were drawn even more sharply on his face than before.</p><p>Once the wound was cleaned Sam decided to take a look at the broken hand.  “Cas,” Sam looked up at him. “The bones in your fingers are shattered. I don’t think I can set them.”</p><p>“I will heal in time,” the angel repeated numbly. When Sam continued fidgeting with the hand, trying to find a way to at least hold the broken pieces together Cas opened his eyes and glared at him.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>With a restrained grunt Cas blinked, eyes swirling blue. A thin crackling sound whisked through the air and Sam found himself holding a perfectly clean, unbroken hand. Cas' bloodied shirt and coat were also restored to a pristine condition. The angel sagged against the couch, chest heaving for air, and a look of reproach in his eyes that told him he’d done it all more to appease Sam than anything else. He pulled his hand away from Sam’s hold and angled his body to the other side, as if trying to turn away.</p><p>Sam put the rest of the gauze back on the table and capped the disinfectant bottle. “What about your…” he hesitated. “Your throat. Do you want something for that? Or are you in pain anywhere else?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The speed at which he answered only confirmed to Sam that he wasn't telling the truth. Sam was familiar with the stubborn I’m-fine routine; he’d seen his older brother pull off many times before. At least with Dean, Sam always knew that sooner or later he’d give in or at least take some medication. Cas, on the other hand--Sam didn’t doubt that Cas would drag himself into battle, half alive and with no weapon but his unrelenting stubbornness.</p><p>Just before he started wrapping the fresh bandages around Cas’ side the angel moved. “Wait. Sigils.” He reached down, thumb prying at the gap between the stitches. “Raphael. Warding sigil…against angels.”</p><p>“Okay, how do we make them?”</p><p>Cas dug into the gap harder, blood spurting out over his fingernail. “Blood.”</p><p>Sam put a hand around his wrist. “Does it need to be your blood?”</p><p>The thumb withdrew slowly. “No.”</p><p>“So let me do it. Just tell me what to draw.” Sam grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the table and handed it to him. “Cas, you don’t have to do everything yourself. You <em>can </em>ask us for help, you know.”</p><p>A muscle in Cas’ jaw ticked and he kept his head down as he drew the circular pattern on the paper before handing it back to Sam. “Just one,” he instructed him.  </p><p>When Sam finished painting the sigil he noticed that Cas’ shoulders were still shaking. It wasn’t a particularly chilly night and Sam felt fine in his own two layers. Then he remembered the backseat and how Cas kept a hand on the blanket even when it wasn’t around him. “Are you cold?”</p><p>“No,” came the automatic response. This time complete with a trademark glower of indignation.</p><p>“God you’re a worse patient than Dean,” he groaned, gathering up the soiled lumps of gauze and tossing them in the trash. “I have to practically tie him down for him to even spend an hour in bed. It’s all ‘I can walk it off’ or ‘some painkillers and I’ll be fine’, like ibuprofen is some magic cure-all.”</p><p>Cas smiled faintly. “That does sound like your brother.”</p><p>“I’m gonna get you some blankets, anyways, alright? Just sit tight.” Sam started to leave the living room but then he stopped. The discomfort between the silences was only getting thicker and he needed to say something before it suffocated them all. “Look, I know there’s a lot we have to talk about,” Sam started, prompting Cas to immediately stiffen. “I mean, there’s probably a lot we all have to say. But before we get to that, I want to tell you--”</p><p>A deafening <em>pop</em> resounded from outside. Sam rushed to the window to see Dean backing away from a charred spot on the gravel where an empty metal box sat in a circle of chalk lines. He stepped back further, batting his hand through the air as whiffs of gray smoke unfurled around him. Noticing the audience behind the glass he turned around, raising a thumbs up and sooty grin to them.</p><p>“The spell worked!” Sam exhaled a long breath of relief. “It’s finally over.”</p><p>When no rejoining remark came from the angel beside him Sam looked over to see that Cas was also staring out the window, but not at the relieved expressions of Dean and Bobby. His gaze was directed towards the box where the grace had once been. There was a glint of grief in his eyes that evaporated as quickly as it’d surfaced. He turned around and sat back on the couch, leaning hard on the arm rest. Sam glanced from him to the window and then back at him, heart sinking as he realized that they’d just destroyed a part of Cas. It was a part of him that had been poisoned and perverted to become a weapon of destruction but it was still <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Cas. I’m sorry that--”</p><p>“I am relieved that you are no longer in danger,” he said tonelessly, ending the conversation by closing his eyes.</p><p>“Okay, I-I’m--” he could hear the front door opening, signaling Bobby and his brother’s return “I’m going to grab you a blanket and then go and get cleaned up a bit. If you need anything Bobby or Dean will be around, okay?”</p><p>A muffled grunt was all he received in response. Cas was still keeping his head down and shoulders drawn together, whether out of exhaustion or trying to shield himself from the gaze of others, Sam couldn’t tell. He seemed to be itching to leave them, and Sam knew that he needed to talk to Dean and then they needed to talk to Cas before desperation and miscommunication led to yet another bad decision. If they waited any longer to have this conversation Cas might disappear by the morning and the last thing Sam wanted was to only hear from the angel when he was dying again.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for the chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFo2BGLhWCE">Problems Up Here</a></p><p>next two chapters are gonna be the comfort we've earned</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. This Is My World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first time writing Bobby! I did my best :) I might not have gotten his accent down right though</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bobby strolled into the living room, wiping his hands clean on one of his work rags. Dean had hurried away as soon as they stepped back into the house, grabbing Sam by the arm and muttering about “we need to talk.”</p><p>“Cas needs a blanket, even if he says he's not cold,” Sam had called after Bobby as he was hauled away by Dean via the cuff of his sleeve. </p><p>The first thing Bobby noticed when he entered the room was that the couch was conspicuously empty. Cas was standing next to it, one hand gripping the window sill and the other against the wall where his forehead was also pressed.</p><p>“Whatcha doin’ boy? Goin’ somewhere?”</p><p>Cas looked up, his posture shifting almost instantly. He turned to face Bobby, hands curled into fists that he pressed to his side, not readying himself to fight, but bracing himself to receive a blow.  “They told you,” he said slowly.  “Your anger is justified. I will not recant any of my actions, but I understand if I am no longer welcome here.”</p><p>Bobby frowned. His expressions weren’t that transparent, were they? Maybe he had approached the angel with a little more caution than welcome, but it wasn’t just because of what Dean had told him. “No one said anythin’ about kickin' you out, just sit back down.” He tossed the soiled rag into the waste bin and moved closer, holding out an arm in case Cas needed support taking a step forward. Right now he looked about one breath away from pitching face first on the floor.</p><p>When Cas refused to budge Bobby rolled his shoulders back with a short huff. “Yeah, okay, they did tell me about your going-ons, but they also told me about what happened to you. An’ right now I’m more pissed off at the bastard who did this to you.”</p><p>“He was under orders,” Cas said blandly.</p><p>“Don’t make it right. We’ll get to him sooner or later.” He gestured towards the kitchen table. “Come on. They told me you’re on the mend cuz of the grace situation so some food might feel right about now. I’ll heat up some chili and there’s a fresh loaf of bread in the oven. Was in the middle of tryin’ my hand at baking yesterday when I got your call,” he shrugged sheepishly. “You can tell me how it turned out.”</p><p>Cas stared at the proffered arm for several long seconds before latching onto it. Bobby felt the full weight of the angel clinging onto him and wondered how he hadn’t collapsed earlier. He must have been standing up by the sheer force of his stubbornness.</p><p>“I don’t need food,” Cas stated as Bobby led him over.</p><p>“Idjit,” Bobby huffed, lowering him into a chair at the table before turning to the stove. “I don’t <em>need</em> a stiff drink either but it sure helps to take the edge off some days.”</p><p>While the chili warmed up in the pot he cut several thick slices from the loaf of bread. Just in case the angel really was hungry he picked out a big bowl and filled it up, adding two slices of bread on top. “Here ya go. The spoon’s for eatin’,” he added when the only reaction Cas had was to stare at it blankly.</p><p>Finally he looked up at Bobby inquiringly. “I am unfamiliar with this cuisine."</p><p>“Just blow on the chili,” Bobby assured him. “It’s hot.”</p><p>Resting an arm on the adjacent chair Bobby watched curiously as Cas tentatively took a bite of bread.  His eyes immediately watered and he ducked his head down, scooping up a bite of chili and then another.</p><p>“Somethin’ wrong?” Bobby asked and the angel shook his head.</p><p>“It’s good…” he said softly, cradling his hands around the bowl. Tears were welling at the corners of his eyes. “It feels…warm.”</p><p>There was so much gratitude in his voice that Bobby couldn't help his own eyes from misting. “Plenty more where it came from,” he managed gruffly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Got a whole pot in the kitchen an’ no one to eat it.”</p><p>He felt the shiver of Cas’ shoulders under his touch and remembered Sam’s comment about a blanket. There was one blanket in the guest room closet that he knew was the warmest one in the house; it was a gray woolen one that his wife used to love wrapping herself in during winters, even with the fireplace roaring.</p><p>“Gimme a sec,” he told Cas. When he returned with the blanket he tucked it carefully around the angel’s shoulders. Cas snuggled into the warm folds instantly, grasping to pull it tighter around him.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered, glancing up at Bobby through red-rimmed eyes.</p><p>Bobby moved to leave, thinking that Cas might want some privacy at the moment, but a thought crossed his mind. Pulling out a chair he sat down beside the angel, waiting until Cas had hungrily finished a few more bites before asking, “How long?”</p><p>Cas put the spoon down right away. “A few days if you don’t mind,” he said, looking around the room almost wistfully. “I do not wish to impose, I can find other--”</p><p>“No, you idjit, I’m not asking how long before you’re angel-ed up again. I’m talking how long have you been fighting your big brother? Did you get any vacation days between that and well--” he raised an eyebrow “--getting killed by your other big brother.”</p><p>Cas opened and then closed his mouth silently, as if deciding whether or not to tell the truth or how much of the truth to tell. Then his shoulders slumped down and he exhaled slowly. “I went to retrieve Sam as soon as I could,” he began, his voice coiled tight. “It was almost impossible. I didn’t tell you or Dean about my endeavor because the possibility of success was...minimal at best.”</p><p>“You didn’t know if you’d survive,” Bobby frowned, the reality dawning on him.</p><p>Cas nodded. “I wasn’t sure if either of us would, to be honest. We did, although I didn’t realize my error at the time.” A shadow of shame fell over his face but he continued. “After that I went back to Heaven and I tried to teach the other angels what you taught me. Free will and choice are not easy concepts for angels to grasp.” His lips twisted in a grimace. “Then Raphael summoned me. He...demanded that I kneel and pledge allegiance to him. He wanted to start his reign of Heaven by opening the Cage and releasing Michael and Lucifer.”</p><p>“Balls,” Bobby muttered.</p><p>“I tried to reason with him but he did not appreciate my defiance.” Cas turned his attention back to the bowl of chili and Bobby understood what wasn’t said.</p><p>“He hurt you, didn’t he?” The question didn’t need an answer; the way Cas unconsciously burrowed deeper into the blanket already told him everything. “Dammit Feathers, why didn’t you tell us then? When crap like this happens you’re supposed to come to your team for help!”</p><p>Cas put down the half slice of bread he was munching through. “I did.” Bobby couldn’t quite read the look on his face now; it was something foreign that he’d never seen Cas wear before: resignation. “I went to see Dean, but I…I decided that I could not ask more of him. He had a life with Lisa and Ben, people he cared deeply for. I could not take that away from him.”</p><p>Bobby had half a mind to go upstairs and shake the two boys for teaching an angel about self sacrifice and wrangling wretched deals. It was bad enough that everyone in this little family was carrying around enough guilt to fill ten storage units, but making decisions based on that guilt was going to be the death of them faster than any vamp or wendigo hunt.</p><p>“I’ll get you a refill,” is all he said when he noticed Cas scraping the last of the chili from the bowl. After he gave Cas another bowl and received an equally grateful look he decided to head upstairs where the garbled voices of the boys could be heard from behind the bedroom door.</p><p>When he turned the handle and stepped inside he saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean was coming out of the bathroom, toweling off his damp hair.</p><p>“How’s the powwow going? Are you two done trying to avoid Cas?” Bobby said, looking from one guilty face to the other.</p><p>“We’re not avoiding him,” Sam sighed. “We’re trying to figure out what to say to him. <em>How </em>to say it to him.”</p><p>“Oh I’ll tell you what to say to him.” Bobby closed the door behind him, lowering his voice but keeping the edge sharp on his words. “Your angel is downstairs about to break down just cuz I gave him a warm meal and a seat at the table. He’s worn down to the bone. He’s been fightin’ a <em>war</em>, all this time. You get that?”</p><p>“We do,” Dean protested. “But he’s also been--”</p><p>“No, you don’t get it,” Bobby cut in. “Dean, we thought he zipped back to Heaven after--” he glanced over at Sam “--we thought he went back to play sheriff with his elite club. He told me that his first pit stop was to Hell for you,” he waved a hand at Sam, “and then back to the pearly gates where he had a few weeks of trying to teach the angels about this new crazy idea of ‘freedom’ before Raphael beat his ass six ways to Sunday. An’ before you go on about how he should have come to us he said he did. He went to see <em>you</em>.”</p><p>From the blanched look on Dean’s face Bobby guessed that Cas hadn’t quite made contact when he dropped by.</p><p>“I thought I--I thought I was crazy,” Dean stammered. He ran a hand through his hair, making at the wet ends stick up before flattening them again. “I thought--one day, when I was outside in the yard I thought I heard him. That was him? What, he was just <em>spying</em> on me?”</p><p>“He was deciding whether or not to drag your ass back into the fight. It was disturb your peace or deal with Raphael on his own.” Bobby crossed his arms. “Guess which one he chose?"</p><p>Dean's jaw tensed but he said nothing. </p><p>"While you two have been hunting vamps and shifters and then coming back for a cold one he’s been running for his life," Bobby went on. "He went to a demon for help only cuz he doesn’t want you getting hurt. He’s running himself into the grave tryin to stop an apocalypse-crazed archangel. He’s not just at the end of his rope, he’s been holdin’ on where there is no goddamn rope in sight.”</p><p>Sam exchanged a stricken look with his older brother.</p><p>“Now,” Bobby nodded towards the door. “You’re going to go down there and make sure he knows you’re on his side. Cuz I know I am. Last I checked I’m also all about savin’ the world.” With that he opened the door and marched downstairs, muttering over his shoulder about “there’s chili in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”</p><p>“Bobby got him to sit down? And eat?” Sam shook his head in amazement. “I had to fight just to get him to let me change his bandages.”</p><p>“I’ve learned by now to never underestimate Bobby. That man could probably bring about world peace if he had a decent weekend off.”</p><p>Rising to his feet Sam cast a long look down the staircase and then back at his brother. “So what do we do now?”</p><p>Dean sighed and put down the towel he’d been twisting around his fingers. “We go and tell him the truth.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rdc6QjBNOOU">This is My World</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Men Are Still Good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dean came downstairs he noticed that Bobby was seated at the table, whiskey glass in hand. Sam had promised to be “right behind him” but then insisted on showering first, claiming that he’d already tried to talk to Cas and it was Dean’s turn to be “rejected”. Dean would have waited until he had backup but the smell of hot chili wafting upstairs was too tempting for him. They had planned to grab something to eat after the vamp hunt, and now that the adrenaline of the defusing Cas situation had worn off, his stomach was growling noisily.</p><p>Not that he was really in the mood to gather around the kitchen table with the present company. Between Cas almost dying and that vision of terror he’d been shown and then the revelation of Cas’ actions he was still grappling with whether or not he wanted to hug or punch the angel. But Bobby’s words had reached some place deep inside him; the part of him that didn’t want to admit that, had he been in Cas’ place, he would have done the exact same thing. His instinct was also to put the burden on his shoulders first, regardless of how he balked against the weight, rather than crush someone else beneath it.</p><p>Cas sat beside Bobby, looking like little more than a mophead sticking out of a burrito of blankets. He was bent over a bowl and eating busily until the creak of Dean’s steps on the staircase made him stop. The spoon slid from his fingers and he tried to straighten up as much as he could, like he was Goldilocks caught eating from Papa Bear’s bowl.</p><p>Bobby leaned over and muttered something to him. Cas relaxed marginally and obediently returned to his food.</p><p>Dean made himself walk over and pull out a chair next to him. “So, Cas--”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely, pre-empting the question forming on Dean’s lips.</p><p>The rawness in his voice stung Dean. He wondered if Cas' vocal chords had been more damaged from the holy oil forced down it or from screaming in agony during the brutalization. It was clear that the untainted pocket of grace wasn’t healing him yet, and Dean remembered a time when Cas had also been depleted of grace and grappling with human fragility. He had carved that banishing sigil into his own chest knowing full well what it would cost him and yet he did it without hesitation in order to help them save the world.</p><p><em>We will all be hunted, we’ll all be killed</em> is what Cas told him that night in the Green Room. Dean was the one who told him that it was worth dying for, and Cas must have taken those words to heart because death in exchange for upholding freedom is all he seemed to be doing these days.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dean could hear himself saying, to his surprise. “This--this should have never happened to you. What happened tonight.”</p><p>“It had nothing to do with you,” Cas said firmly. “I knew the risk of my opposition to Raphael. Yesterday’s method was certainly… unconventional...but ultimately the attempt failed.” He looked up sincerely at Dean. “I have you to thank for that, but in the future I would advise steering clear of interactions between me and other angels. The fallout can be deadly and dangerous.”</p><p>“So we’re just supposed to sit back and let you and Raphael duel it off? Hell no, Cas, I’m not doing that.” Dean pushed himself away from the table and stormed off towards the kitchen stove.</p><p>“Dean’s right,” Sam piped up, coming down the stairs at the opportune time, although Dean was sure he’d been listening to the conversation longer. Taking a place across from Cas Sam folded his hands on the table and squared his shoulders. “Cas--there’s no point in pretending that we weren’t upset to know that you’d been lying to use. But we also know what it’s like to make deals out of desperation--” he glanced over at Dean and Bobby “--or trust someone because you think they can help you achieve something for the greater good.” The name <em>Ruby </em>ghosted across his mind. It seemed so instinctive at the time, that he was making the right choice and that whatever doubts he had about the situation would be redeemed by the good they did and would accomplish. He had been so absolutely convinced of the value of his actions that he’d been blinded to the abyss he’d been descending into, one ladder rung at a time.  </p><p>“Yeah. None of us are saints.” Dean came back towards the table with two bowls of chili and handed one to his brother. “And maybe you even have a point with this Crowley arrangement. I mean, I don’t know of any other way to take out an archangel backed by half of Heaven. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”</p><p>“Maybe we can do a summoning spell tomorrow and trap the angel who did this to you,” Sam said to Cas. “We can interrogate him and find out what Raphael’s minions are going to be up to next.”</p><p>“And you can also explain to us this whole Purgatory plan,” Bobby added. “It sounds like one hell of a risk to open up the gates of monster heaven. Who knows what else could come crawling out? Or what Crowley’s endgame is?”</p><p>“He does seem kinda invested in keeping humans around,” Dean admitted. “He gave us the Colt, remember?”</p><p>“Didn’t work as advertised,” Bobby groused. “At least he wasn’t completely useless in finding the Horsemen.”</p><p>“You sold your soul for that.” Sam motioned for Dean to pass the salt. “I thought this was about not making anymore deals.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Everyone turned and looked at Cas who had his hands raised, expression furrowed in abject defeat .</p><p>”No what?” Dean asked.</p><p>“To any of this! I did this, I went to Crowley, I did everything for you. To keep you and your brother--” he turned to Bobby “--your family out of this. You have sacrificed enough. What’s happening in Heaven…” he shook his head, rubbing two fingers across his forehead in a motion that seemed strangely human. “These are the sins of my family. I will take care of it and I will keep you safe. All of you.”</p><p>“Yeah and who’s going to look out for you?” Dean challenged. “Who’s going to make sure you’re off somewhere getting turned into a bomb again?”  </p><p>“I have…allies. There are some angels who do believe in my cause.”</p><p>“Still sounds like a load of bull to me,” Bobby grunted. “Cuz you’re forgetting that you’re part of our family. And so when someone in your house is kicking up a storm, that’s our storm too. You have our backs and we got yours. That’s just how this works.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean chimed in. “And when someone messes with one of us, we hunt them down so you can stab them in the face.”</p><p>“<em>After </em>we get some answers from him,” Sam added.</p><p>“We can’t summon him,” Cas said shortly.</p><p>“Why not? You found Balthazar that time and you said--”</p><p>“You <em>can’t</em>,” Cas repeated, the force behind his voice surprising them.</p><p>Sam shook his head at Dean who was about to launch into another protest, giving him a look that told him to wait.</p><p>Cas moved his spoon around his half empty bowl, scraping the sides noisily until he finally put it down. “It wasn’t just one,” he said, staring at the spoon handle. “There were at least six of them, they had to hold me down in order to…” his hand reached up involuntarily to his throat, fingers forming a fist. “I tried to fend them off, then they got to my wings…” his hand slipped back down into the covers of his blankets. “It does not matter,” he finished quietly.</p><p>The bite of bread turned to ash in Sam’s mouth. Beside him Dean’s mouth moved in a string of muted swears.</p><p>Bobby’s eyes were wide. “Oh, it matters, Cas. If someone hurts you, that matters. What happens to you matters. You get that?”</p><p>Cas looked at him unsteadily, blinking hard. He nodded his head weakly and Bobby stood up, re-tucking the loose ends of the blanket around his shoulders. The color on Cas’ face was warmer now that he’d had some food but his eyes were still hollowed by exhaustion. He was barely holding himself upright, like a piece of paper trying to keep together in a rainstorm. “Let’s get you to bed,” Bobby said. “Tomorrow’s already here but we can’t do anything without some shut-eye.”  </p><p>“I'll get the guest room set up,” Sam offered, rising from his seat.</p><p>“Give him the upstairs bedroom,” Dean said, collecting the dishes from the table. “It’s warmer. I’ll take the couch tonight.”</p><p>Before going upstairs Sam came around the table. “I didn’t get to finish what I started saying earlier,” he said quietly. “I wanted to thank you. Thank you for pulling me out of the Cage.”</p><p>“Do not thank me for a failed endeavor,” Cas replied miserably. “I attempted an act of salvation and my hubris prevented me from realizing my mistake. I am sorry that you suffered because of it, but believe me when I say I did not kno--”</p><p>“You didn’t fail, Cas. I’m here. I’m <em>here</em>. You saved me.”</p><p>Cas still looked unconvinced but the corner of his mouth turned up a little. “I appreciate your optimism, Sam,” he said, moving a hand to press warmly over Sam’s. “Despite all you have suffered your ability to maintain faith regardless of the odds never fails to surprise me.”</p><p>Sam felt his chest tighten. An angel was commending him for his belief--<em>him</em>, the boy with the demon blood, the abomination. The same angel who also chose to go down to Hell and rescue him, not because he was told to do so, but simply because he wanted to. The realization swelled like a sun blooming in his chest. “I’ll let you know when the room is ready,” he smiled, patting Cas’ arm before heading upstairs.</p><p>Dean emptied the bowls and spoons into the kitchen sink and then grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He could see Bobby leaning over Cas, talking to him in that grouchy yet gentle voice that he hadn’t heard in so long.</p><p>“I need you to tell me straight,” he was saying. “Are you in pain? Cuz we have stuff that can help with that.”</p><p>Cas shook his head, predictably, but a few seconds he lowered his head and whispered something. Bobby bent down closer and then straightened up.</p><p>“Help me get him to the couch,” he said to Dean. “He needs to be lying down right now.”</p><p>Together they helped Cas stand up and move into the living room, the gray blanket sweeping the floor like a cape behind him. As soon as they reached the couch he collapsed into the cushions, eyelids fluttering shut and body curling into itself.  </p><p>“Hey, hey,” Dean squatted down to be one eye level with him. “Don’t do that, you gotta lie straight or you might mess up the stitches.”</p><p>A suppressed grunt escaped his tightened lips and Cas rolled over reluctantly, one arm pressed over his eyes. Dean could tell from the pull of the fabric that his other hand was clenched in a fist under the blanket. He’d never seen Cas in such constant unending pain, not even when he’d be hit with the Whore’s curse or suffering the effects of time travel. A sudden doubt prickled at the back of his mind, refusing to numb itself and needling deeper and deeper.</p><p>“Cas…you said you had some grace left.” Dean hated himself for saying it but he had to ask. “Were you…telling the truth about that? Or are you--are you human now?”</p><p>The angel didn’t budge from his position but Dean could see his throat working up and down. Guilt churned in Dean’s stomach and he was about to find something to say to correct what must have sounded like an accusation when Cas started to speak.</p><p>“I keep reaching for it,” he breathed, the sleeve of his coat hanging across his face muffling his words. “I know it must be there, but whenever I reach for it all I find a chasm. I can feel it, somewhere among the ashes, but I can't…” his breath hitched and he stopped. “There is nothing but empty inside me now.”</p><p>Dean bowed his head, biting his lower lip. He wouldn’t accept the knowledge that they had saved Cas only to leave him completely fallen. He couldn’t live with that. “No,” he said aloud. “It’s probably just fixing the rest of you, you were pretty hot back there, your internal organs must be fried. Or your vessel’s organs,” he gestured helplessly. “You know it’s there, so it’s <em>there</em>. In the meantime, you just rest here, okay? Sammy’s getting you a much more comfortable bed ready.”  </p><p>Cas moved his arm aside, opening one eye and then the other. “Dean.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>A glint of trepidation rose in his solemn blue stare. “Do you truly want me around? Still?”</p><p>“Without a doubt,” Dean grinned. “It's better if screw-ups like us stick together. Besides, like Bobby said, we’re family. I don’t wanna have to summon you to be there at breakfast, okay?”</p><p>Relief ghosted over his face and he closed his eyes again. “Okay.”</p><p>Bobby reappeared at his side with a cup of water and a few tablets in his palm. “I know you think you’re fine,” he grunted, hauling Cas up to a sitting position with one arm, “but you ain’t fooling anyone about the pain. Take these. Swallow, don’t chew.”</p><p>Cas regarded the pills for a moment before accepting them and then under Bobby’s watchful eye finishing the entire glass of water.</p><p>“There. You’ll start to feel better in no time.” Bobby motioned for him to lie back down and pulled the blanket over him, moving the couch cushion to nestle under his head. “Gimme a hand,” he pointed to the thick rolled-up cover he’d also brought in with him.</p><p>“I thought we were gonna set him up upstairs?” Dean asked, dropping his voice as Cas seemed to be drifting off to sleep.</p><p>“Do you think Feathers could actually walk up those stairs? ‘Sides your brother is already fast asleep up there. Kid’s been on his feet all day, eh?”</p><p>Dean took one corner of the cover and tugged it along over the length of the couch and around Cas’ feet. “It’s been a day alright. Just look at you,” he chuckled under his breath. “Going all Florence Nightingale for an angel.”</p><p>“Shut your mouth,” Bobby grumbled, pressing the back of his head to Cas’ sweaty forehead. “Doesn’t seem to be a fever, at least we’ve got that to be thankful for. I was worried the wound was infected, the way he kept almost keeling over.”</p><p>“Yeah, I think it’ll be awhile before his backup grace kicks in and he’s mojo-ed up again. He was really in bad shape, Bobby.” The word <em>burning alive</em> scorched the tip of Dean’s tongue. “I’ve never seen him that bad. I think it’ll take more than a few days til he’s back on his feet. But hey,” he nudged Bobby in the elbow, “more time for you to play nurse.”</p><p>Bobby feigned swatting him away. “Watch it, boy, or you’ll be on dish duty for the next week.”</p><p>“Seriously,” Dean motioned to the angel whose chest was now rising and falling in gentle rhythm. “You’re the only one he listens to. All Sammy and I get from him is the ‘I’m fine’ spiel.”</p><p>“Well never let it be said that angels don’t have pride.” Bobby glanced up at the clock on the wall and shook his head. “Get your ass to bed now. We can’t stop Apocalypse 2.0 if you’re all a bunch of sleepyheads.”</p><p>“This job never changes,” Dean grunted, plodding his aching legs up the stairs. “See you in a few hours.”</p><p>Once Dean had left Bobby stayed in the living room for a few moments longer, puttering around to put everything back in place. It was starting to get light outside, just as the household was finally settled down enough to snatch a few moments of rest. He drew the curtains around the room, hoping to keep a little of the blissful dark so they could at least find some quiet in their dreams.</p><p>Before heading off to his room he leaned over Cas, putting a finger near his nose to make sure he was still breathing.  </p><p>The blankets rustled and Bobby felt fingers closing around his wrist. “No,” Cas slurred sleepily. “Raphael…I cannot let him win.”</p><p>“You’re still here, Feathers,” he said, gently untangling his arm from the feeble grip. “You just go back to sleep, nothing's gonna get you in here.”</p><p>The angel gazed up at him in drowsy wonder. “Bobby,” he breathed. “You are a good man.”</p><p>Bobby clasped his fingers around his hand. “You too. Don’t you go forgetting that.”</p><p>Cas ’ eyelids started to droop down but he didn’tfall back to sleep. His breathing ebbed from quickening to slowing to rushing faster again. He would open his eyes, looking around in alarm for a few seconds before realizing where he was and then close them, only to repeat the process a few seconds later.</p><p>Bobby thought of how many other close calls Cas might have experienced during the war; how many other times he had been hanging by a thread, trying to repair himself and recover on his own? How many hours had he spent hurt and bleeding out, yet unable to truly rest because he had to watch his back by himself?</p><p>Today wouldn’t be one of those times.</p><p>Grabbing the nearby chair Bobby sat down beside the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. He picked up the Japanese book he’d been studying the day before and opened it to the last chapter he’d been reading. Cas was still blinking in and out of sleep but eventually he quieted down. Bobby leaned over to check on him and re-tuck the blankets around his chin. A sliver of sunlight sneaked in through the curtains, warming up a strip of gray across Cas’ chest as it rose up and down steadily. The lines on his face smoothed out and for the first time in months the angel actually looked at peace. It wouldn’t last long. There was another war waiting for him when he woke up, another day of grueling recovery, another stretch of weeks or months of being on the run from a homicidal archangel.</p><p>Bobby grabbed a pillow from the armchair and put it behind his head, resuming his post at Cas’ side. He was no angel but he was damn sure he could watch over this one, even if just for one sleeping dawn.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>music for chapter title: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShTw1x2Lsrc">Men Are Still Good</a></p><p>Thank you to everyone for reading this! I was a bit worried about this fic and if it was addressing all the s6 issues in the right way but I hope you enjoyed it! Never stop being bitter about s6 :P </p><p>Next week I'm going to post a long one-shot I've been writing which is a series of vignettes that runs through s4-s15. It's a headcanon of mine about Cas' grace and I'm sort of retconning his entire arc because of that. It's also going to be in Cas' POV for a change! So stick around if you're interested in seeing that :) and come hang out at <a href="https://angelfishofthelord.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a></p>
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